


A Shassie Carol

by the_awkward_nerd



Category: Psych
Genre: Christmassy things, Established Relationship, M/M, Random unrelated fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 13:40:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5499083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_awkward_nerd/pseuds/the_awkward_nerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>5 Shassie one-shots based on Christmas songs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I've Got My Love to Keep Me Warm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MuiromeM](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MuiromeM/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I loved our conversation about Shassie cuddles so much I had to write it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In each chapter, I'll also include the link to the version of the titular song I listened to on repeat while I wrote it, if you really want to get in the spirit. (Warning: they're all jazz).
> 
> I've Got My Love to Keep Me Warm- Tony Bennett  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bIZRiFf0T7Y

Shawn woke while it was still dark out, freezing. This was unusual for two reasons: one, he was not a morning person, and two, he was very rarely cold. His body emanated heat like a small furnace. Lassie, on the other hand, was perpetually cold. And it was Lassie who was the current cause of his shivering state (and thus his wakefulness at such an ungodly hour). He was hoarding all the blankets which were mounded in a soft fluffy mountain piled atop him.

Shawn tried to gently pull some of the blankets back to his side of the bed. Lassiter curled up and gripped them tighter in his sleep. It was absolutely adorable and Shawn couldn’t bear to take them from his sleeping boyfriend. Instead, he squirmed closer to the detective, both becoming the big spoon and slipping under the blankets. His body curved around Lassiter’s and he slung one arm and one leg over him, holding him tightly. He buried his face in the blue flannel pajamas the covered his boyfriend’s back and breathed in the scent of Lassiter. His Lassiter. He smiled as he drifted back to sleep.

When Shawn awoke the second time, it was a much more reasonable hour. This time, however, he was alone in the bed. It was still pretty early, so he knew Lassie couldn’t have gotten up very long ago. He climbed out of bed, feeling toasty despite the colder air outside of the blankets.

Shawn made his way to kitchen, where a still drowsy Carlton was making a pot of coffee. His bedhead made him, in Shawn’s opinion, even cuter than usual. (Whenever he vocalized this, however, Lassiter always asserted that he “is not cute, Shawn, I’m a grown man.” Shawn maintained that gender and age had nothing to do with adorableness.) The younger man came up behind the detective and wrapped his arms around him.

“Mmm, good morning,” Lassiter said softly. Shawn could hear the smile in his voice. Even if he never said so, Shawn knew he loved surprised hugs. And Lassie was always most cuddly when he was sleepy.

“Good morning,” he mumbled into his boyfriend’s shoulder. Lassiter turned around without breaking the hug so that Shawn could rest his head on his chest.

“I like your shirt,” said Shawn. Lassie looked down, apparently unaware of what he had slipped on in the dark. It was Shawn’s green Apple Jacks shirt.

“Oh,” he grunted. “It… smelled good.” What he didn’t say aloud was that it smelled like Shawn- safety and home and warmth.

“It looks good on you,” Shawn said, nuzzling his boyfriend’s chest. “Speaking of Apple Jacks, I think I want some.” He started to pull away, but Carlton’s arms tightened around him.

“Noooo,” Lassie groaned. “You’re warm. You can’t move yet.”

Shawn rolled his eyes. “I’m getting you a snuggie for Christmas.”

“Nope, it’s not the same,” said Carlton. “Nothing is as warm as you are, and you’re just so damn _huggable_.”

“I did not sign up for this,” Shawn said, chuckling.

“Yes you diiiid,” said Lassie in a sing-song voice. “Keeping me warm is part of the ‘being my boyfriend’ contract.”

“Dammit, I knew I should have read the fine print,” said Shawn, rubbing his hands up and down Carlton’s cold arms. “But I think since you forced me to be cold this morning when you stole the blankets from me, it’s only fair.”

Lassiter’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Can’t you just take them back?”

“But Lassie, you were so cute! You were all cuddled up beneath the blankets, and it was too adorable. I couldn’t just cruelly take them from you.”

“I am _not_ cute,” Carlton protested. “I am fear incarnate, so if you what you mean is that you were afraid to take them from me since I keep a gun in my nightstand-“

Shawn shook his head, grinning mischievously. “You can’t fool me, Lassidophilus, you’re just a big, adorable teddy bear.”

Lassiter growled playfully. “If I weren’t so cold, I would shove you away right now. I might anyway, just to spite you.”

Shawn laughed. “But then you would be playing right into my secret plot to get a bowl of Apple Jacks.”

“I guess I’ll just have to hold you hostage here, then. It’s my only choice,” said Lassie with a twinkle in his eye.

“Oh noooo,” Shawn wailed in mock despair. “What a terrible hardship for me!” He tilted his head up to gently press his lips against his boyfriend’s. He could feel Carlton smiling through the kiss. He broke it off when he heard beeping coming from the counter.

“I think your coffee is ready,” he said, his face still only inches from Lassiter’s.

Lassie kissed him on his forehead before sighing dramatically. “I guess you can have your Apple Jacks now.”

“You are too kind,” Shawn threw over his shoulder as he slid across the kitchen on his socks. He was halfway through pouring the milk on his cereal when Lassie was hugging him from behind.

“I got cold again,” he said in his ear.

Shawn carefully put the lid back on the milk before turning to face his favorite human icicle. “Idea: I eat my Apple Jacks and then we go back to bed and cuddle.”

“Counteroffer: We go back to bed and cuddle right now because I’m freezing,” said Lassiter, pulling him in the direction of the bedroom.

“But Lassie! My Apple Jacks will get soggy!” Shawn protested, though he was already following Carlton. “That ruins the integrity of the cereal!”

“I’ll get you more cereal,” Lassie promised, and suddenly Shawn felt himself being scooped up and carried towards their bed.

They crashed into the mountain of blankets and soon Shawn was once again wrapped around the lanky detective, letting his heat spread through both of them. He could hear Lassie’s murmurs of contentment, and he smiled. Shawn decided he didn’t mind sharing his warmth if it meant cuddling up next to this adorable teddy bear every day.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you too.”


	2. I'll Be Home for Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lil bit of Christmas angst (and more fluff). I really love this song and I don't think I did it justice, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll Be Home For Christmas- Kelly Clarkson (I normally don't like her but her Christmas album is *on point*)  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gOUJbs6SamQ

Shawn looked around at the strings of Christmas lights illuminating the street. This was his favorite time of year, and he was so glad to be spending it in Santa Barbara. The air was cool and he pulled his coat a little tighter around him. He could almost hear the carolers singing, taste the hot chocolate, and inhale the scent of pine.

He found himself at Lassie’s front door- or rather, their front door. He wasn’t exactly sure when they had moved in together, it just seemed to have happened. He was excited to see his boyfriend, because for some reason it felt like it had been a while since he’d been with him…

Suddenly, his cell phone started ringing. Since when did he have this obnoxious ringtone? He scrambled, searching his pockets for the phone, unable to locate it. The ringing was only getting louder and more piercing.

Gradually, his eyes opened. Shawn saw an unfamiliar ceiling and heard the phone ringing next to the bed. He picked it up groggily and gave a mumbled “Hello?”

“Hello, sir. This is your 8 AM wakeup call.”

“Mmph. Thank you,” he managed, still trying to shake the surreal feeling that came from waking in the middle of dream.

He looked around, taking in his New York City hotel room. He had spent several weeks in his mom’s tiny apartment before deciding to get a little space and since then had hopped hotel rooms every week or so. He had only been in this room a few days, though it had been almost two months since he last set foot in Santa Barbara. After the Yin Yang debacle, he accompanied his mother back to New York, with the excuse that he wanted to spend some time with her and make sure she was okay. Truthfully, it was Shawn that wasn’t okay. The games Yang had played with his head had shaken him to his core; he was afraid, and he wanted as far away from Santa Barbara as possible.

He was better now- the nightmares had stopped and he felt calm, but he was dragging his feet about going back. Not that he didn’t want to see Gus, and start Psych back up again, but there were other things to be afraid of. Part of him was scared returning would stir up memories and nightmares he had so carefully packed away, but the greater problem was one Carlton Lassiter.

They had been dating for only two months when Yang materialized. The relationship was going surprisingly well, but it hadn’t been quite enough to keep Shawn from bolting. They had barely communicated since Shawn left, and now he wasn’t sure where they stood. Nor was he sure where he wanted them to be. Did they start over? Pick up where they left off? Move on and pretend nothing ever happened? He wasn’t sure if Lassie was even open to continuing their relationship. During their brief talks, he sounded concerned, but Shawn wasn’t altogether certain that concern wouldn’t turn to anger once he was back home. After all, Shawn had left without any warning to his boyfriend and barely spoken to him since. He had a right to be angry.

But the dream… the dream had renewed his longing for his hometown, and his maybe-boyfriend. Christmas was his favorite holiday and while spending it with his mom would be nice, she had friends here to be with, and he had only her and a strange, cold city.

He glanced at his phone. It was December 23rd. He sighed; all the flights to California would be booked by now. He would never get home in time.

Still, there no sense in giving up. He had weaseled his way out of much worse situations. He shoved his few belongings into his suitcase and took the elevator to the lobby to check out and head to the airport.

 

 

 

Lassiter leaned back in his recliner and sighed deeply. He couldn’t focus on his book, nothing on tv interested him, and as usual he hadn’t been invited to any parties. It was Christmas Eve… he supposed he could go to a church service, though that didn’t sound particularly appealing either.

He looked at his drooping, poorly decorated Christmas tree. It looked almost as miserable as he felt. He normally didn’t mind being alone on holidays, for while it was never particularly pleasant, he was used to it. But this year he had dared to think he wouldn’t be alone. Of course, as the doubts in the back of his mind had told him from the beginning, Shawn had run away only a couple months into their relationship. And so on December 24, Carlton Lassiter found himself alone.

He had made a feeble attempt to decorate that matched his hopes that Shawn would come home. That was the only reason he decorated at all- he knew Shawn would have insisted on it. So he gave in and put up a few strings of lights with the vague hope Shawn would get to see them.

He was just drifting off to sleep when the doorbell rang. Grumbling, Lassiter clambered out of his La-Z-Boy. If these were carolers, he was going to threaten to arrest them for trespassing. They had no business trying to spread Christmas cheer; he was quite content to be miserable, thank you very much.

Ready to start his lecture, he flung open the door, but the words caught in his throat. He stared at the figure on his doorstep.

“Shawn?” he choked out finally.

“Hiya, Lassie,” said the fake psychic, with much less gusto than usual.

Lassiter stood with his mouth agape for a moment before recovering himself and inviting Shawn inside.

Shawn flashed him a quick smile. “Thank you, I’m sorry to impose, I just have nowhere to stay because they rented out my apartment while I was gone, and Gus is out of town visiting family, and I don’t really want to stay with my dad but I can if you don’t want me to stay here, I just thought-”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Lassiter interrupted. Taken aback though he was, he was happy to see Shawn again.

“You’re not… mad at me?” Shawn asked. It was strange, seeing him so unsure of himself.

The corner of Lassiter’s mouth twitched upward. “No, Shawn. I’m just happy to see you again.” The younger man’s face broke into a wide grin.

“I missed you too, Lassie.” There was a brief moment where the head detective was unsure of what to do, but before he could do anything, Shawn launched himself at him and encircled him in the tightest hug Lassiter had ever experienced. He hugged Shawn back, taking a deep breath of Shawn’s pineapple scented shampoo. God, he had missed that smell. Shawn, for his part, had buried his face in Lassie’s chest, listening to the reassuringly steady heartbeat.

When Shawn finally released him, he seemed to have regained the peppy spark he usually had. “So, Lassifrass, do you have any plans for tonight?”

Lassiter shook his head. Shawn’s smile widened.

“Do you want to make some Christmas cookies? I can whip up some hot chocolate while we bake, and then we can decorate them, and take them to the station to share…”

“I’m not sure I have the ingredients for cookies,” Lassie said, hating to ruin Shawn’s plans.

“Oh, don’t worry, I got some on the way here,” said Shawn, rummaging around in one his bags. “I even found a pineapple cookie cutter!”

Lassiter rolled his eyes. He was so, so glad this dork was home. Speaking of which…

“Shawn, why didn’t you tell me you were coming home?”

“I wasn’t entirely sure I would be home… I didn’t decide to come until yesterday.”

“Yesterday?” Lassiter exclaimed. “How did you find a seat?”

“I didn’t,” said Shawn. “One of their flight attendants got sick, so I volunteered.”

Lassie raised an eyebrow. “And they just let you?”

Shawn shrugged, the picture of innocence. “They were desperate.” Lassiter stared him down. “Okay, so I might have told them I was an attendant for another airline and I was on vacation. I did a great job, though!”

Lassiter tried really hard not to laugh. He could only imagine what Shawn’s interpretation of being a great flight attendant was. Instead of commenting, he chose to get out a rolling pin. He turned to ask Shawn what kind of cookies they were making first, only to find Shawn’s arm stretched high in the air and his face only inches from his own.

“I grabbed some mistletoe, too,” the fake psychic smirked. “Just in case.” Lassiter closed the distance between them and decided that this Christmas was going to be good, after all.


	3. White Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A slightly unrealistic story that needed to be written, because snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> White Christmas- The Glenn Miller Orchestra  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hQtHPLqf9E8

It was Christmas Eve, and Shawn’s one wish had not come true. All he wanted was a white Christmas; he had dreamed of it since he was a kid. He knew, living in Santa Barbara, this was unlikely at best, but he still hoped for a miracle every year. He had traveled all over the country and seen plenty of snow, but never on Christmas. He felt he had been gypped out of a quintessential element of Christmas.

“Lassie, let’s watch _Holiday Inn_ ,” he suggested. At least he could pretend to see snowfall on Christmas Eve.

“It’s already in the DVD player,” Lassiter responded. He knew Shawn’s greatest wish, and that this would be his way of coping with it not being fulfilled. He was the same every year. This, their seventh Christmas together, was no different.

They were settling down on the couch as the first strains of “Happy Holidays!” came from the television. Their first Christmas together, Lassiter had made the mistake of asking why Shawn watched _Holiday Inn_ instead of _White Christmas_. He was promptly educated about the history of the song and the superiority of Bing Crosby and Fred Astaire as a team to Bing and Danny Kaye.

By the end of the movie, Shawn was quite sleepy and headed off to bed with the assurance that Lassie would be there soon after. When Shawn was safely out of the room, Lassiter pulled out his cell phone and dialed.

“Gus! He’s in bed. Are we a go?... Okay, see you in ten.” He hung up and went to make sure Shawn was asleep. He was glad Shawn was a heavy sleeper.

 

 

Shawn’s eyes slowly blinked open. It took a few moments for him to remember that _today was Christmas!_ He immediately leapt out of bed and bounded towards the living room, where he assumed Lassie already was. He stopped short at the window- it was _white_. _OUTSIDE._ Was that... snow?

He ran to the front door and flung it open. Sure enough, their yard was covered in snow- probably two feet of it. He looked around. None of the other yards had even a speck of the white, fluffy stuff in it.

“LASSIE!” he whooped, running into the living room. “There’s been a Christmas miracle!” He almost fell over the footstool in his excitement. “Did you see outside? It’s- there’s- there’s _snow!_ ”

Carlton’s face was the picture of innocence. “Really? Snow? I hadn’t noticed,” he said dryly.

“Did you… how?...” Shawn, for once, was at a loss. “We live in Santa Barbara, Lassie. It just does not snow in Santa Barbara.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lassiter said, sipping his coffee. “Santa probably dropped it off for you from the North Pole.”

Shawn tried to glare at him, but he was literally bouncing up and down. Carlton wasn’t sure he had ever seen him this full of joy.

“We have to go play in it before it melts!” Shawn said excitedly. And so, not twenty minutes later, Lassiter found himself outside building a snowman. Cars slowed as they passed their snow-covered yard, staring in confusion.

“How did you do it, Lassie?” Shawn asked as they rolled the center part of the snowman.

“A friend owed me a favor,” said Lassiter.

“What friend? Chione?” Shawn asked.

“Who the hell is Chione?”

“The Greek goddess of snow,” Shawn said impatiently. “Who was your friend?”

“His name is Steve,” explained Lassiter. “I solved a case for him a while back, and he always said if there was anything he could do for me, he would. He also happens to own a snow machine.”

“A… snow machine? Like the kind they use at ski slopes?” Shawn was putting the pieces together (and, incidentally, the snowman).

Carlton nodded his affirmation. “I asked him if I could borrow it last night, and he was happy to loan it to me. Gus and Juliet helped, too.”

Shawn carefully placed the snowman’s head on his body. “You are officially the best boyfriend in the world.”

Lassiter strode across the snow-covered yard. “Hey! What are you doing?” Shawn yelled.

“Oh, just _this_!” he yelled back, throwing a carefully packed snowball at Shawn as hard as he could.

Shawn let out a high-pitched scream and ducked for cover, tossing snowballs back at Lassie as he ran.

Carlton laughed as he made more snowballs and searched for the most strategic position. The snow would be melted in a few hours, but it was worth it. This was the best Christmas present he had ever given.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (For the record, I do know a guy who owns two snow machines and makes snow in his yard every year.)


	4. Favorite Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was too lazy to write a story so I relyriced a song instead, and it doesn't rhyme because I am the worst poet in existence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Favorite Things- Swing Shift  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xxeU9I4T-NQ

**Carlton:**

Watching Clint Eastwood and high speed car chases,

Being at work and at Old Sonora,

Shutting Shawn Spencer’s cavernous pie hole,

These are a few of my favorite things.

 

Dependable friendships and going fly fishing,

Blue Crown Victorias and sweet maple syrup,

Pulling and firing my favorite gun,

These are a few of my favorite things.

 

Justice and the American way,

Being in Civil War reenactments,

Starting to tap dance when I need to think,

These are a few of my favorite things.

 

When I eat mint, see a snow globe,

When the perp goes free,

I simply remember my favorite things,

And then I don’t feel so bad.

 

**Shawn:**

Pineapple smoothies and old motorcycles,

Inventing nicknames and solving tough cases,

Trying my hand at gazillions of jobs,

These are a few of my favorite things.

 

Little boy cats and my beautiful hair,

Tears for Fears songs and fake psychic visions,

Always having everyone’s attention,

These are a few of my favorite things.

 

Yelling SUCK IT with my best friend Gus,

Fanboying over B. Zane and Val Kilmer,

Making obscure references to the 80s,

These are a few of my favorite things.

 

When my jokes fail, when my dad nags,

When I screw up bad,

I simply remember my favorite things,

And then I don’t feel so bad.


	5. O Christmas Tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grumpy Lassie and cuteness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> O Tannenbaum- Vince Guardadi  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hM2dV0vtOd0

This was almost- not quite, but _almost_ \- as bad as the Halloween pumpkin escapade two months before. Lassiter was starting to regret volunteering to bring Shawn to pick out their tree. He would have let Guster do it, but the man was busy and his little car probably couldn’t handle the weight of a tree, and after what Shawn had done to Henry’s pickup on the street racing case he doubted his father would have acquiesced to lend it to them.

So here he was, two hours after pulling into the Christmas tree farm, no closer to cutting down a tree than when they had arrived. At first he had tried pointing out trees to the younger man, but Shawn found flaws with all of them. That one was too tall, that one too short; this tree didn’t have the right scent, that one had a hole on one side, this one didn’t have enough needles, this one shed too much, and that one would be okay but it was Noble Fir and he preferred the Douglas Fir. So Lassiter trailed along behind his boyfriend, carrying the saw, mostly because he didn’t trust Shawn not to get lost or with sharp objects.

“We have to go far out!” Shawn insisted. “All the good trees near the entrance will be gone by now. The further out we go, the better chance the nice trees will still be there.” He seemed to have unending energy and was bouncing on his toes, ready to plunge deeper into the forest of festive trees.

Lassiter wanted to argue that they had passed plenty of nice trees, but he knew better than to invite a dissertation on The Perfect Tree. Instead he commented, “You know we have to carry it all the way back, right?”

Shawn waved his remark away. “That’s the easy part! They’re not nearly as heavy as they look. They’re just trees.”

Given their height difference, Lassiter was pretty sure he would be carrying most of the weight (and probably poked with most of the needles). “The things I do for you,” he muttered. Shawn seemed not to notice.

“You know, if we had come when _I_ suggested, this would have been a lot easier,” said Shawn.

“You wanted to get a tree on November 1st,” Lassiter observed.

“It’s never too early to get ready for Christmas!” Shawn said. Lassiter disagreed, but kept his thoughts to himself. After a few more minutes of fruitless searching, he broke the silence.

“I have an idea,” he said, almost certain he was going to regret it, but too desperate to care. Shawn turned. “Why don’t you get on my shoulders and see if you can see a good tree from here?”

Shawn’s face lit up. “A piggy-back ride?”

“No, Shawn, I just want to give you some height so you can spot this miracle tree we’re looking for,” Lassiter said, rolling his eyes. He knelt down as Shawn clambered up to perch on his shoulders. The detective struggled to a standing position.

“Dammit, Shawn, I told you not to eat so many japadogs at lunch!”

Shawn patted his head. “I believe in you, Lassie, my big, strong, fearsome boyfriend.”

Lassiter groaned but stood, turning slowly so Shawn could see in all directions. He was fairly certain they looked something akin to two children trying to pass as an adult in a trenchcoat.

“There!” Shawn yelled, scaring Lassiter so much he almost dropped him. “Go that way!”

“Even if I could see which way you’re pointing right now, I am not wandering through this tree farm with you on my shoulders,” he informed him, helping Shawn slide off of him.

“How will I find it without my aerial perspective?” Shawn pouted.

“Use your psychic powers,” Lassiter groused. He was certain Shawn knew exactly where it was from the ground, and his shoulders hurt.

Of course, that comment earned him a full scale psychic episode, even though no one else was there to watch. Shawn spun in three circles until he “heard the call” of the miracle tree.

“Lassie! It’s this way! Hurry, its cry is so faint, I don’t want to lose it,” he said, rushing off into the maze of trees. He stopped abruptly and leaned towards the closest pine. “Do you know the tree I seek?” He paused, apparently to listen, and nodded before weaving in and out of the trees in that row and circling back around hold Lassie’s hand “to help him channel the tree’s spirit.” Then he frolicked off again, until his leg started convulsing as the tree pulled him in a different direction. He had to stop twice more to ask trees for directions, followed a squirrel for a short while, slapped Lassie’s ass to once again help channel the tree’s spirit, and sang O Tannenbaum to appease the tree gods so he could locate the fir.

Lassiter tried not to smile. Shawn’s antics were almost amusing when you knew they were a joke.

At last, they were in front of the heralded tree. Shawn walked around it three times, laid on the ground to look up from below, and examined the branches (for needle quality and scent) for almost ten minutes before he declared it fit for their living room.

“Can I cut it down?” he asked Lassiter.

Lassiter was not looking forward to laying on the cold, pine needle covered ground and gladly handed the saw over. Shawn was surprisingly adept at cutting the tree down (“interned as a lumberjack” he explained) and before long, Lassie had the eight foot Douglas Fir resting on his shoulder. Shawn held up the front, though by the spring in his step Lassiter wasn’t sure he was carrying much of the weight.

By the time they made it to the front to pay, Lassiter’s arms ached. And by the time they got it on and off of the car, he was exhausted and grumpy. His arms hurt, he had pine needles in his shirt, and he had been poked with one too many branches. Only Shawn’s soulful eyes prevented him from leaving the tree outside.

Sighing, he picked up the enormous evergreen once again and attempted to shove it through the door. It seemed, however, that the tree was just a bit wider than the door. It was stuck.

Lassiter let loose a string of curse words while Shawn tried not to laugh. Lassiter threatened to cut the tree in half in order to fit it through the door and Shawn’s laughter quickly disappeared. In the end, it took Henry, Gus, three bungee cords, and a lot of leverage to get the tree into their apartment.

Though it was only late afternoon, Lassiter immediately showered and crashed into bed. He was sore, tired, and cranky.

He awoke an hour later to Shawn gently shaking him. “Lassie! I have a surprise for you.”

Lassiter slowly opened his eyes. “This better be good,” he mumbled, his voice still thick with sleep.

When he made his way out of the bedroom, he found Shawn waiting with a mug of hot chocolate (Shawn made the best hot chocolate, featuring a secret ingredient he refused to share) and a wide grin. Looking past his boyfriend, he saw their tree already adorned with lights, popcorn, and a star.

“I’m sorry I dragged you out on a three hour expedition for a Christmas tree,” Shawn said, handing him his hot chocolate. “I know that’s not exactly your idea of a fun day. So I filled it up with water and everything, and untangled the lights, because I know you hate doing that too, but I waited on the rest because I thought… maybe you would want to decorate with me?” His eyes were hopeful.

“Of course I’ll decorate with you,” Lassiter said. The sleep had helped cure his grumpiness, and the sight of his boyfriend trying so hard to make it up to him didn’t hurt either.

“Here, Lassieface, I got you a new ornament! Merry early Christmas!” Shawn handed him a medallion. Upon closer examination, Lassiter saw Clint Eastwood’s face staring back at him.

“Thank you for helping me today,” said Shawn, wrapping his arms around Lassiter.

“Merry Christmas,” Lassiter said, hugging him back. This man made even the achiest arms worth it.

Lassiter looked at the tree. It was perfect.


End file.
